


James Pan

by 4dice



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4dice/pseuds/4dice
Summary: Complete Story Summary: Before Peter was Peter Pan, James, the boy who will become Captain Hook, was James Pan. This is how he stopped being leader of the lost boys and came to lose one hand.Please note that this story, as a whole, is x-rated. Sex is a primary part of the story. There is a lot of non-detailed violence but also a little detailed violence as well. The main characters are also absolutely underage, even if they were born long enough ago to be adults.Chapter Summary: For now it's just play time in Neverland. But incongruities still arise. Childhood can't last forever.No interactive sex or real violence in the first chapter but there are moments of nudity, sexual awareness, masturbation and the reader can infer deaths that the boys ignore.The only footnote for this chapter is an historical vocabulary note, so it's easily skippable if you don't feel like clicking away.





	1. And Then There Were Two

Chapter One: And Then There Were Two

Every child grows up but not all children grow up at the same rate. Some grow quickly, some slowly, some decide they're not sure about this growing up and experiment with down and sideways. A very few stop all together for a time. These children are found by the fairy born of their first laugh and led away to the Neverland. And of these, one, and only one, becomes the Pan. Most folk know about Peter, who was Pan when the Darlings came to Neverland. But Peter was not always Pan, nor did he become Pan when he set foot on Neverland. Peter like all the others began as a lost boy and the Pan who ran his games was named James.

James leaned into the shade of a tree his face buried in the crook of his elbow. He had shut his eyes against the threadbare cotton of his coat. He counted aloud.

"Seventy Eight," James called.

James had forgotten the actual count of one to one hundred, but he was sure that seventy eight was in there. His fairy, Ladyrose, swooped around his head tugging on his long black curls, urging him higher in the count.

"Eighty Seven," Ladyrose said. She tugged hard on one of his curls, trying to pull his head up.

"Ouch," James said.

That seemed wrong. Ouch didn't seem to belong after seventy eight. Maybe Ladyrose's number.

"Eighty Seven," James called.

That seemed right. Yes, eighty seven did seem to follow seventy eight.

"Ninety Eight," Ladyrose yelled in his ear.

"Ninety Eight?" James asked.

Did that come next? James looked up at Rose. She still had hold of a fistful of his hair, and was spinning around to make it into a black belt around her white rose petal dress. James grabbed her to make her still. She leaned her elbows and cupped her delicate chin between her hands. She smiled up at him her little blue eyes flashing.

"Is ninety eight next?" James asked.

Rose shook her head. "No, you silly ass. Ninety nine is next."

"I am not a silly ass. You said ninety eight."

Rose stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at James.

"You can go away if you're not going to help."

"Hundred!" Ladyrose yelled. She flapped her iridescent wings madly trying to wriggle her lanky body out of James's fist. "Hundred!" she yelled again. "Hundred! Ready or not! Hundred!"

"I'm it. I'm the one who has to count to one hundred," James said.

"Hundred! Hundred! Hundred!" Ladyrose yelled.

"Bad form." James wasn't sure quite what this meant, but he was sure whatever he disapproved of was it. "I have to say one hundred."

"You said it. You said Hundred. Ready or not, say ready or not."

James dropped Ladyrose in surprise. He had said it. Ladyrose was right. Well if he had said it, he must have gotten to One Hundred. Saying One Hundred too soon would be bad form, and James was certainly too good for that. Ladyrose circled around his head caught up in his lock. She orbited him yelling, "Ready or not."

"Ready or not," James called.

James yanked back his hair and Ladyrose unwound spinning around in mid air spraying fairy dust everywhere as her long black hair whipped around her face. She still yelled through the hair in her mouth.

"Quiet Rose, it's time to go hunting," James said.

Ladyrose righted herself in a flutter of wings and put her finger to her lips. James rose to the top of the tree he had counted against. He pulled from his coat pocket the brass spyglass and put it to one of his forget-me-not blue eyes. He scanned over the crammed landscape. That was the hunter's advantage in Neverland; the island was small enough that you could get to anywhere you wanted between the striking of hours. The Lost Boys were definitely close by. The problem was that the island provided for every need. That was the advantage of the hunted. There were as many places to hide as children could imagine. But that's what made it fun. James had always been the sort of boy who could outsmart other boys. Or at least he thought he had. He wasn't entirely sure. He had noticed recently that he did not remember things very well. He had noticed it when he hadn't been able to remember Seamus's name. But the other boys had. They had called him Seamus and James was not the sort who would admit that he knew less than other boys. That was why he had adopted hide and seek as his favorite game; he had to remember all the places they could hide before he could guess where they were.

He focused on the mermaid's lagoon. Peter liked to talk to the mermaids. The mermaids liked that he let them do his hair. But Tinkerbell did not like the mermaids. James was never sure why. It seemed to James that a boy's fairy ought to like what their boy liked. His fairy was a perfect example. Ladyrose lay on her stomach next to James, a pixie dust illusion of a spyglass held to her eye. She mouthed, "Ready or not. Ready or not." James was ready. But Peter seemed to be ready, too. Peter was not on the rock with the mermaids. Peter was not on the shore of the lagoon. Perhaps Peter was under the water. James looked for a reed sticking out of the water but saw none. Peter was not in the lagoon. Where could he be? Peter liked to think of himself as a clever boy. He would try to hide somewhere clever. James thought then that Peter would probably try somewhere quite close then thinking he could outwit James. James grinned, flashing his perfect teeth. Peter dressed in leaves; he would hide in a tree.

James upended himself and flew face first through the leaves of the tree beneath him. And sure enough there was Peter, dressed in his leaves. He had hid his ginger hair by caking it with mud and sticking leaves to it.

"Got You! Got you!" cried Ladyrose.

"Didn't yet!" Tinkerbell cried back. She shook off the daub of mud that Peter had stuck to her own red hair and shot off through the leaves.

Peter flashed his small pearly teeth - Peter still had his baby teeth, which James fervently wished he had thought of, instead of going through all the trouble of growing in a new set - and flew off after Tinkerbell. James chased him. Ladyrose catcalled as they raced through the woods, calling Tinkerbell a whore and Peter a no good bastard and working her way to worse names from there. Tinkerbell yelled back in turn that Ladyrose was an uppity bitch and James a no good catholic. None of them were sure what a catholic was but they thought it must be like a Spaniard but less trustworthy and thought it a very good insult. Peter stayed just out of reach all the way to the mermaid's lagoon. Then James tackled Peter and they tumbled head over heels into the water. James kept hold of Peter and flew them up out of the water still holding him tight.

"I got you," James said.

"That you did," Peter replied.

When they got to the shore Peter picked up a piece of driftwood and held it out like a sword. James eyed Peter and the driftwood sword, fists on his hips. Peter dropped to one knee and placed the driftwood across his other upraised palm.

"I yield to you, sir. The day is yours," Peter said.

James turned to Ladyrose and said, "See that the prisoner's are treated with honor. No moldy bread and rum on Wednesdays."

Ladyrose nodded and Tinkerbell curtsied at the generosity of the sentence.

Then James took out his spyglass once more. He scanned back into the trees to try and see another of the Lost Boys. Behind him Tinkerbell and Ladyrose reached an accord and shook hands over the peace treaty that made Peter and James allies in the coming battle and Peter was informed that he had paid the penalty for siding with the losing side and was now allowed to take up arms once again in the noble cause. Peter swore undying loyalty and took up a defensive posture behind James guarding his commanding officer's back.

"Any sign of the enemy, Captain?" Peter asked.

"None, my good man," James replied.

"We'll fight to the last man for you, Captain. Make no mistake. Our blood is a small sacrifice for King and country."

"Here, here," said James. "Good form."

James turned his spyglass towards the high cliffs in the center of the island. He thought he remembered Seamus having a particular love of wide open spaces. The cliff tops would afford Seamus the best of views.

"We are seeking the treacherous Seamus," James said to Peter. "He is a master of disguise and twice as good with a sword but we have our orders."

"I'm not afraid, Captain. I'll bear my chest and tell him to strike true should it be asked of me." So saying Peter ripped open the top of his leaf shirt bearing his chest just as he said he would.

"Good man," said James. "But our orders are to find him and best him."

James found an eagle's nest high up on the cliffs which appeared to have something rather larger than an egg or a chick. He flew off, Peter trailing close behind him and the fairies at their sides.

At the nest they found Seamus; he was chewing up food he had brought to snack on during the day and feeding it out of his own mouth to the chicks in the nest. He squawked and flapped his arms like wings at James's approach but they were not fooled and he quickly abandoned his masquerade and flew away. Though he was no match for James and Peter together, especially with no fairy to look behind and warn of someone at his back. James did not think that Seamus had ever had a fairy but Seamus called out, "Cobblergrin, watch my back." So when Seamus was caught they sentenced him and his escaped accomplice to ten years breaking stone.

James found Tomtom next. Hal stood no chance when he was surrounded on four sides and could not fly for fear of Ladyrose and Tinkerbell who shouted many tortures they would inflict if he did not surrender. Noodler forgot to hide altogether and walked into the group to enlist. There turned out not to be much need as Pew had hid in the drinking hole and been eaten by a crocodile. They thought at first that his fairy Smithfrost, who told them what had happened, was just hiding him, but she flew off refusing to say anymore so Pew was given up for dead. They gave him a ceremony, praising him as a worthy foe. They pretended to get very maudlin drunk and each gave a memory of how Pew had done some great deed and it was the world's loss that he was gone. Seamus told of the time that Pew had slain all the sea serpents in Ireland and it was agreed that it was his greatest feat. James ended by telling how Pew was fighting Davy Jones even now for lordship of the sea. Then Peter flew to the water and stuck his head in the water to cheer Pew on.

James thought this was good form and soon all the Lost Boys were in the water ducking their heads in the water to tell Pew to give Davey the old one two. They did this until James dunked Tomtom which was taken as the signal to switch to the game of frolicking in the water. In twenty minutes not even Seamus, who slept next to Pew at night, remembered that there had been a lost boy named Pew.

When James and the Lost Boys came out, waterlogged and tired, Tinkerbell mimicked Peter shivering. "You'll freeze to death you silly ass," she chattered.

"Catch your death," Ladyrose said.

Peter put his hand to his head. He slumped to the warm sand and groaned at the injustice of cruel fate while Ladyrose mocked him.

"Oh," Peter groaned. "I have caught my death. It's all over for Peter."

"Quick, Lost Boys," James said. "We must build a fire so Peter will not freeze to death."

The Lost Boys worked quickly. It was an urgent case. No time to lose. The bonfire was built just in the nick of time. The Lost Boys gathered around it and sighed in relief when Peter told them he felt the icy hands of death driven away. The Lost Boys then used the convenient fire to dry their clothes as they sprawled out across the warm sand to dry themselves beneath the hot sun.

It was then that something happened to James. He was quite sure it had never happened before but it did then. He became aware that the Lost Boys were naked. He knew that they had all been undressed before, but he had never before put it together in his mind that taking off their clothes put them in the shameful state of nakedness. Polite company would be appalled. James looked around, afraid for a moment that polite company might arrive and discover them. No polite company was in sight, unless he counted Ladyrose who was a highborn fairy, but that only meant she knew more insults than the lowborn fairies like Tinkerbell, Smithfrost, and Cobbler… something or other. Was there a fairy whose name started that way? The embarrassment of the situation made it hard to think. James didn't understand how he hadn't seen it. He didn't understand why the Lost Boys did not leap up and deplore themselves for their immodesty.

James thought about leaping up himself. He would chastise them for such bad form. No, he would need better insults. He turned to Ladyrose who, along with Tinkerbell had made a hammock of a leaf and a forked branch in a tree at the top of the beach. The fairies were looking out over the Lost Boys languidly as they rocked their hammock gently back and forth. They were completely unconcerned. Was James overreacting?

James turned back to look at the Lost Boys. They languished in the sun that grew steadily hotter as it neared noon and high summer. They were all young, firm bodied from their adventures on the island, and tanned from lying out beneath the sun every day that decided to be summer - which was most of them. Most of them had their eyes closed, soaking up the sun. Peter smiled at him though, flashing his pearly teeth. James looked down at himself. He was naked too, of course. He did not want to get back into his wet clothes. He had good reason to be unclothed. It couldn't be bad form then. He smiled at this comforting thought and he lay back to enjoy the sun on his body.

The sun covered him in a warm glow while the sand baked his back to the same temperature. James could hear sighs of contentment from the other boys and sighed himself. He flung his arm over his closed eyelids and just enjoyed the warm dark. He felt his consciousness ebbing, drowsiness washing over him to take its place. He felt a tightening and thickening in his loins as languor filled the rest of his muscles.

James tilted his head back and uncovered his face. He felt an unaccountable need to check on Ladyrose. He saw her, still rocking, but he noticed that she had one of her hands slipped between the petals of her skirt. James covered his eyes again, but ran his other hand down his flat stomach until he touched the base of his penis. He thought they might have called it a tickle-tail before he came to the Neverland. Also a doodle [1]. But somehow these both seemed bad form to use. Touching it filled his chest with heat, until the inside of his skin was as warm as the outside. He took deep breaths of the summer air, the weight of his tiredness heavy on his chest. He stroked himself slowly, concentrating on the ring of pleasure just below the tip; it gave him a sweet tingling sensation that matched the heavy heat of his breathing. The pleasure pulled lower at his body. His testes strained into his body, tightening. All of his skin felt tightened, like the sun had shrunk it until it stretched thin. He contracted, a shiver running from the skin between his anus and testes to above his encircling hand. He clenched and then relaxed as pleasure filled him. Warm droplets hit his chest and dried in the sun. He drowsed for a time.

James opened his eyes some time later feeling energized. He got up and shook the sand from his black curls. He ran back into the water to cool off. He splashed until some of the other Lost Boys began to rouse from their naps and joined him in the water. He noted that Peter had skin stained as his had been.

 

James noticed something odd over several days. It seemed to him that whenever they were all out playing together - or when they were awakened by Seamus' bad dreams about something he couldn't quite remember - he always seemed to catch Ladyrose staring at Tinkerbell. They did not act any differently. Tinkerbell called Ladyrose a twat and Ladyrose called Tinkerbell an uppity strumpet. But something wasn't right and James couldn't tell what.

He finally decided that it must be playing hide and seek too much. Ladyrose was on guard to see where Tinkerbell was going to hide at every moment. He was tired of playing hide and seek anyway. James decided that they should play pirates instead. James would be the captain. For the first game he dubbed himself Matchstick Jas and tied small twigs into his curls.

"Ready the powder, Noodler," James yelled. "We'll blast those land lubbers full of our fiery gall and brimstone. Send 'em off to suck brine with Davy Jones."

"Aye, Aye, Captain," Noodler said.

"Seamus, roll off the larboard cannon. Quick man, or you'll man the bilge 'till you grow barnacles."

"Aye, Aye, Captain," Seamus said.

"Ahoy, the lookout. Do you spy our prey?"

Ladyrose flew down from the treetops. She alighted on James's shoulder. She squinted the eye she had not covered with a miniscule leaf and spat behind his back.

"Arr, Captain, I've seen ransom to be made. The governor's daughter rests protected by only three guards," Ladyrose said.

"Shiver me timbers, lads, an easy mark for blackguards like us."

There was a cheer from his pirate crew as they wheeled out the hollow log that would serve as the cannon. All three boys wore a bandolier of small coconuts with bits of string scavenged from their clothes to serve as bombs.

James placed Peter in charge of the town's defenses as the gallant captain of the guard. Peter had immediately named himself Lieutenant Captain of the first company of the royal Governor's Musketeers and made Hal and Tomtom shout, "one for all and all for one," repeatedly as they marched a square around Tinkerbell.

"Stand bravely men," Peter said. "Most of you will die this day, but you'll die nobly defending the honor of a fair maiden. Who could ask for more?"

"One for all and all for one," they replied.

"Have out your muskets and make ready your blades. Matchstick Jas will pay for his villainy in blood."

"One for all and all for one," they repeated.

"Give the bastards hell," Tinkerbell said.

Peter happily chimed in, "One for all and all for one."

It was a mighty clash. The cannon felled the palisade killing half the Musketeers with the first shot. The rest of the musketeers fired, slaying most of the pirates. The streets ran read with blood. Hack was met with slash. Bombs dismembered innocent townsfolk. Fires raged unchecked. Scallywags were shot down like dogs in the streets. Tomtom was sent to kingdom come by one of Seamus' bombs. Hal disemboweled Noodler; refused to give him a clean death and let him writhe in agony. Seamus got the drop on Hal but was given a horrible wound that would surely turn gangrenous. In the end it was the two captains as it had to be. Gallant Lieutenant Captain Pierre of the Musketeers stood toe to toe with the pernicious Captain Matchstick Jas of the Pirates. The wind died down as if the very world held its breath. The few survivors watched in terrified silence but for the governor's fair daughter who called out, "Gut the ass!" Then there was a flash of steel as both drew. Pierre was quicker but the evil Jas kicked out the Musketeers leg. Jas fell on Pierre like a ravening wolf. They sliced at each other, rolled across the bloody street as each tried to overmatch the other. Their blades struck each other with the racket of thunder. Pierre struck so hard that Jas was thrown into the air, flipping head over feet backwards, his matches scattering across the cobblestone. But the devil protects his own, and the knave landed on his feet to charge again. He slashed across the musketeer's belly. Pierre danced away with his life, but his shirt was rent wide and a thin weal of blood marred his white flesh.

"I am the better man. Even should you kill me, the final victory shall be mine in heaven," the musketeer said bravely.

"Arr, I'll find comfort enough in booty and rum. Have at you bilge-rat, and tell heaven to tremble at the name of Matchstick Jas."

They crossed swords again; their steel rang through the streets. They were an even match. But the pirate proved wilier in the end. Jas bore down on Pierre driving him back into an alley where he had told his most despicable and villainous first mate to lay in wait with a cudgel. Even as Pierre recouped to turn the tide of battle he was struck unconscious and the day belonged to Matchstick Jas.

"Tie him up with the rest. Maybe we'll get a few guineas for him."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"And break out the rum you scurvy knaves! We'll feast on our enemy's stores."

Lunch was sweet with the taste of victory. At the end of the battle all the boys but Peter became the last survivors of the pirates and there was much cursing and cheering. Peter turned his head from the food, still playing the bound Pierre.

"I shall touch no food spoiled by such villains."

Tinkerbell called him a silly ass and ate as much as any of the Lost Boys, though she threw twice as much, being such an impolite pirate wench. Ladyrose took it as a personal insult and stuffed the vilest morsels she could find down the hero's throat.

"Say thanks for the tripe, lubber," Ladyrose called.

The rest of the pirates laughed at this indignity and suggested more hideous fare for the hero. Noodler suggested singed rat and the Lost Boys dutifully went to try and catch one. When they were alone, James untied Peter.

"The hero should escape to fight another day," James said.

"True. He and Matchstick will have a good feud," Peter said.

"Their own private war," James said.

"Shall I be the bo 'sun?" Peter asked.

James clapped Peter on his shoulder. "Aye, bo 'sun. The prisoner may have escaped but we'll drown our sorrows in rum and pillaging."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

When the pirates returned to find Pierre escaped, they took to pillaging with a will. They were so destructive that the Captain ordered them all back to the ship before they torched all the booty as well. This order sent the Lost Boys running down the beach to the water. Pirates had been a good game.

James stayed and stared at the remains of the feast. Ladyrose circled his head, crying, "Water, swimming, roll in the waves!" James ignored her. He picked up a love apple that had was hollowed and filled with sweet custard. There was no food as good as that found by the Lost Boys in Neverland. They found magnificent meals whenever James decided it was time to eat. Today's feast had been full of exotic foods since they were pretending to be on a far off island in the Caribbean. James felt sure that outside of Neverland food had to be made by people. He certainly never made food. He never saw any of the Lost Boys make food. Could the fairies make it? James looked up at Ladyrose who was tugging on James's long hair, trying to drag him down to the beach.

"Time to swim, you ass. I want to splash. I want to roll. Time to swim," Ladyrose said. She punctuated each sentence with a tug on James's hair.

"You go ahead," James said.

"No. Bad sulk. Come play. Swim time. Then dry in the sun. No sit and stare," Ladyrose said. She pulled more sharply on his hair.

"Ouch. Let go. I'll be right behind you," James said.

James swatted at Ladyrose. She darted out of the way and looked at James. Her face drooped in a sad frown.

"Hurry. You won't get to swim. Come swim, James. We'll splash and play," Ladyrose said.

"I'll be there soon. I'll be in time to swim with you," James said.

"Hurry," Ladyrose said again. She lingered a moment then flew towards the beach, her long hair streaming between her fast fluttering wings.

That was the problem with fairies, James thought. They were only big enough to feel one thing at a time. Try and smack them and all they could feel was sad, so it was like the world was ending every time. It couldn't be fairies making the food. They were too single minded. They'd never use more than one ingredient.

Could there be other people on the island? Were there adults in Neverland? James couldn't remember ever having seen any. Of course he didn't remember the adults from before Neverland very well. Could he have seen one and not known it? He didn't think so. No, adults were definitely big and looked like Lost Boys. And there were no big Lost Boys. At least he didn't think so. Then where did the food come from? There were no food trees. It was too heavy to blow on the wind like dandelion fluff. Then something had to make it.

James felt a shivery twinge in his back like he was being watched. He turned quickly, spinning into the air to get height on his attacker. There was no one. He saw nothing but the forest of Neverland, its interior shadowing as they clumped close together deep within. James felt uneasy. He felt his lunch as a dead weight in his stomach. Could there be something in the trees? Something stalking him.

A splat of rain hit him on the head. He looked up into an uneasy sky. The sun shone, but rain clouds scudded across in narrow twisted bands. A blast of cold wind rifled through the treetops with a low whining sound.

James raced for the beach, flying full tilt. The wind felt like cold breath at his back. He burst through the last trees over the beach then out over the water past the Lost Boys who were frolicking in abnormally high surf.

The Lost Boys were laughing and shouting with glee as the high waves picked them up and tossed them down. They did high belly flops from the top of waves three times their height. They were too busy having fun to notice a monster coming.

James was going to call to them. He turned his head to warn them. Then he plowed into the face of an oncoming wave. All other thoughts left him as he tumbled inside the wall of the wave, spinning in the cold, silty salt water. He was smashed down against the soft mud and sucked back towards the great open waters of the ocean. He struggled across the tide trying to surface. Another wave smacked him down before he could breach. He tumbled, his body rolling like a log until he was not sure which way was up and which way was down. He needed to breathe. He kicked out in panic shooting him sideways as he felt himself sucked back and raised up. He was swimming perpendicular to the surface. The wrong way.


	2. Chapter Two:  A Traitor Amongst the Loyal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gets a warning about what it means to grow up. And the fairies don't seem to think it has anything to do with sex. 
> 
>  
> 
> Like last time, the one footnote can probably be ignored, I'm merely preserving it as I originally wrote it. If you think you get what it is, you're probably right. 
> 
>  
> 
> It's worth mentioning that the site I intended to link into this story for, BDSMLR, has stated its rules such that I'm not sure allow me to link to it. Doesn't mean I'm not going to post up the whole story, just means it may take me a bit longer as it is a lower priority because I think that gives me a smaller audience. 
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone happens to know a way to automatically convert WORD files to nice HTML text files (with footnotes) for AO3, a mention of that in a comment would be appreciated. And these stories would probably go up a little faster. Either way, be seeing y'all.

He breached the side of the wave as it tossed him into the midst of the Lost Boys. He took a great breath as he bounced into the laughing Peter.

"The water's great today. Much better than summer," Peter shouted.

A new wave picked them up and tossed them down. James did not go under this time. Relief spread through him with every breath.

"Aww," whined Tomtom. "It's starting to calm down. Look."

The next batch of waves were only half as big. While the other Lost Boys were disappointed, James was pleased not to be afraid of drowning. James didn't care for being afraid. Then James remembered the monster in the forest. He turned back to face the beach. Nothing there. Had he been scared of nothing? Or had whatever it was gone back into the forest to hide?

James felt something splat into the back of his head. He reached around and pulled out a soaking wet Ladyrose.

"You came. Good waves. Big waves," Ladyrose said.

Ladyrose wriggled out of James's grasp and splashed back into the water. She zoomed through the surface kicking up a wake twice her height behind her that splashed the Lost Boys in the face as she passed.

"Splash!" Ladyrose shouted.

Ladyrose vaulted out of the water over a wave and then cannon balled back into the surf. She zoomed around again, splashing all the boys she'd missed.

"Splash! Water fight," Ladyrose shouted.

She crashed into the next wave. Her sparkle shimmering through the wall of water until she exploded out the back. She raced around the next wave; then she spied Tinkerbell whom she grabbed in midair.

"You're it. Chase me," Ladyrose said.

Ladyrose raced away and Tinkerbell launched herself in pursuit. A gush of water came at James from across the current, blocking his view. He turned into the next splash that Peter sent his way. James splashed back, running his arm fast and hard through the water's resistance to get make a big splash on Peter. Another wave dunked them first. James surfaced already sending another splash Peter's way and the water fight spread as Tomtom caught half of it in the face.

As the boys played the waves rose higher again and soon they were all laughing as the surf splashed them and tossed them about. They finally had to fly out of the water the pull of the wave's retreat being too strong to swim out of. They fell exhausted on the beach and watched the waves crash as the sky brightened into a clear summer's day.

James crawled over to Peter as the other boys began to drowse in the heat.

"Peter, have you ever seen a monster in the forest?" James asked.

"No," Peter said.

"I think I almost ran into one when I stayed behind today," James said.

"What kind was it? Was it furry with big fangs?" Peter asked.

"I didn't see it," James said.

"An invisible monster. That will be very difficult to catch," Peter said. "Harder than defending the island from Pirates."

James nodded and lay back in the sand. Peter thought it was the next game. He'd never even seen a hint of what had scared James. He couldn't even think there was something like that out in the woods. It saddened James that Peter hadn’t see it. He wished someone else had. He looked up at Ladyrose who was asleep in her hammock her arm flung across Tinkerbell. But she had left too soon. He knew she hadn't seen it either. But maybe Peter's idea was the way to solve his problem. James could have the Lost Boys play at hunting the monster and they would do it just as if it were real. If there was a monster, they'd find it. James saw Ladyrose hug Tinkerbell closer in her sleep like she was afraid for her friend. James nodded. The monster could be dangerous. He'd need to arm the Lost Boys. He lay back on the sand next to Peter and pondered how to do it until he fell asleep in the summer heat.

James was roused by the feeling of movement next to him. It was not an abrupt wakening instead he felt a subtle heightening of awareness as the waking world entered into his consciousness. James's eyelids fluttered open to see the great azure vastness of the sky. Nothing stood by him. He turned his head slightly in the sand to see red hair right by him. He remembered that he had fallen asleep next to Peter. And it was Peter that was moving. James could feel the shift of the sand from the subtle movements of Peter's shoulder that almost touched his own. Peter had flung the other arm over his face covering his eyes. The fingers of that hand rested, curled, an inch from stroking James's face. Below the arm James saw Peter's mouth parted, his lips dry. Peter pulled in his lower lip, ran the bottom of his tongue to wet it. Peter had discarded his dress of leaves. Recently, James thought. Moisture still clung to the honey browned skin of Peter's chest. His nipples were crinkled into hard points. But the movement of Peter's arm drew James's gaze lower. Peter had grasped the top of his penis between his thumb and first two fingers. He stroked himself slowly, pulling his foreskin down to reveal the turgid head then pushing it up to cover the head and come to a nipple shape above it. Peter's penis was curved towards his own body. The head hovered just above the short thatch of reddish hair where a string of moisture ran unbroken through space to connect Peter's skin back to itself. When Peter pulled his hand down again, James could see that the head, shaped like an elongated mushroom with a slash in the middle, was entirely wetted with Peter's own secretions. The slash opened, the head flaring as James watched, a thick clear tear emerging and rolling down to the string where it slid and thickened and pooled on Peter's belly.

James had felt this. He could recall the sensation of himself in his hand, the wind blowing on the small wetness he produced. But he had never actually seen the process. He could feel the tension in his own scrotum as Peter's tightened. He remembered the dull ache, the need to move his hand faster. James wanted to see.

He bent to come closer and inadvertently brushed his cheek in a light stroke against Peter's fingers. Peter jerked and gasped. James quickly lay back like he had just moved his head in his sleep. Out of the bottom of his vision he could see Peter's penis jerking in his hand, a pearlescent jet pulsed out to hit Peter just above the belly button. A second pulse followed quickly but James closed his eyes as Peter moved his arm away from his face.

James lay very still, pretending as hard as he could to be asleep. He could feel Peter looking at him. He was sure he could even feel Peter's breath against his face on the same spot where the echo of Peter's finger's still touched him. James didn't move until he heard Peter get up and start to move down the beach. He opened his eyes a crack to watch Peter go down into the water and wash himself. James then made a production of waking up. Giving a wide stretch and a yawn, he sat up. He saw Peter freeze still in the water. A wave washed around Peter to pour cupping low across his thighs accentuating his still thickened penis. James smiled and waved as if he didn't notice. He got up as if nothing at all had happened and sauntered off down the beach.

James waited until he was a quarter way around the island before he looked back. Peter hadn't followed him. James went on to the opposite side just to be sure. He was half tempted to go back into the forest. But, no, this would do. He sat down on the beach, his mind racing over watching Peter. He closed his eyes and he could see Peter stroking himself. He could see his skin, swollen red, the way it had flexed at the end.

James could feel his own hardness pressing against his breeches. He pulled off his clothing. He held himself and looked. It seemed odd to him now that he had never looked; never taken the time to examine a part of his own body. He couldn't help comparing himself to Peter. He was bigger he thought, thicker and longer, with a flatter head when he peeled the skin away. He could see that his own head flared just before a pearl of wetness would come out. The slit in the middle flared wide to let the moisture pass. He reached down to feel his own scrotum, he felt the wiry dark hairs that covered it and pictured the almost bald top of Peter's that he had seen pulled up between Peter's thighs. As he masturbated James realized that he held himself differently, grasping all of himself within his fist instead of gripping with just the tips of a few fingers. His hand obscured his stroking where Peter's hand had revealed him to James's gaze. James's wetness pooled in the small crevice between his hand and his shaft. James closed his eyes in pleasure, picturing vividly Peter doing the same thing. Then in James's imagination Peter reached out with his other hand and stroked James face as they both stroked themselves. James threw his head back. He felt himself thicken in his hand and his final pleasure splash against his chest. He fell back relaxing in the sand feeling the thick wetness against the skin of his chest, his penis, and his hand. He held his hand up to look at it, thick and pearly white covering the back of his hand. He pictured Peter painted with pearly white standing looking at James from the waves. James ran his fingers together to feel the slickness. Did Peter's feel the same?

Looking at the moisture he was spreading across his hands James felt that he should not be doing this. There was something not quite right, not good form, about picturing Peter when Peter had not wanted to be seen. James felt a flush heat his face. He felt ashamed of what he had done. It had been bad form.

There was a rustling in the trees behind him. James sat up and turned fearfully behind him. There was something sinister about the trees that lay hidden in the shadows away from the beach. Their limbs seemed to be withered and grey grasping claws. They swayed ominously forward in the cold wind that blew from the island's center. James ran for the water, he could hear creaking and snapping as trees gave way to something large and unstoppable. James took to the air. He dared not look back. He was sure if he saw what was stalking towards him he would be paralyzed with the terror of it. Somewhere deep down he felt he should remember this, that he had encountered this monster before. He felt a certainty that this thing was why it was so difficult to remember things. He forgot so he would not remember ever having seen this thing. For a moment a memory surged up, he remembered calling to another boy, screaming at him to run away. The briefest flash of a thin face framed by sandy colored hair, an expression of open-mouthed horror etched into it. Then James was falling. He belly-flopped into the water, unable to propel himself through the air. He thrashed in the water, up righting himself. The entire front of his body hurt. The pain turned his attention away from the swell of memory and brought him back to the here and now.

"I am James Pan. I'm not afraid of anything."

He would show this beast why he was the Pan. No one could best him. No one was cleverer than him. James turned back towards the shore ready to face the monster and better it. He found only empty waves and an empty shoreline. Only his clothes broke the long golden line of the beach. He turned left and right, desperate to find something. He was the pan, he wasn't afraid of anything. He certainly couldn't be afraid of nothing. Nothing moved. But he did see something. There was a large rock in the water that the waves crashed against. While he had seen it every time he came to this part of the island, he had never come this far out to sea before. From this angle he could see that the part of the rock that faced out towards the ocean had been shaped by more than the pounding of the waves. An archway and rusted portcullis fronted a cave that was topped by the ruins of a fortress. The wall was gone, worn down to rubble at the bottom, but a balcony remained, resting on the arms and shoulders of a bearded man hewn from the stone. The face was carved in a rictus of agony, the eyes squeezed shut, the teeth gritted, the muscles along the sides of the neck tensed. If ever there was a place to hide a monster, this was it.

James flew to the balcony coming to land with his bare feet on the pitted stone. He could see a place that must have been the room that let out onto the balcony. The top had caved in and the entrance had been gouged into a wide v by the surf. James cautiously peeked around the wall. There was another archway in the rock he could see stairs leading down. But his eyes were drawn to bones battered against the wall and still shiny metal blades. They lay scattered about the room, many of the battered, but some still looking in usable shape. He noticed one, a small falchion, still embedded in a large human skull. The bone was shattered but fragments still caught at the blade holding it within the long empty brain cavity. James pulled it clear. The falchion was a perfect fit for his hand; its curved tip was unmarred by the pounding it must have taken, protected by its victim. The guard looped and curved into a thick basket hilt that would be amble protection against all but the thinnest and most dexterous blades. James swung the falchion, it seemed made just for him.

This was perfect. With these he could arm the Lost Boys. And with luck this was also the entrance to the monster's lair. As if to confirm his suspicions there was the patter of small stones and an unidentifiable sound somewhere between snuffling and howling. James froze, holding the falchion out in front of him. He waited for an attack. None came. He would get the Lost Boys. They would get the monster.

James flew around the rock and back to the beach. He dressed quickly and then flew over the treetops to return to where he had left the Lost Boys. He scanned the treetops behind him as he went, looking for evidence of the creature following him. Nothing. It seemed to James that the monster somehow knew when he would be alone and defenseless. It waited to show itself until then. But it didn't matter any more, he was sure he knew where it laired, and with that knowledge he could track it and kill it.

The Lost Boys still napped on the beach, most of them naked. James noted that Peter had redressed. James alighted in their midst. The waves crashed behind him as he raised his Falchion to catch the light.

"Lost Boys!"

The boys were startled from their sleep. They sat up, blinking, to see their leader, his sword raised high and gleaming.

"Lost Boys," James repeated. "There is something among us. Something here that does not belong."

The boys looked around at each other. They tried to determine if one of them did not belong. They looked the other boys up and down, as if they might have changed while they slept.

"Something monstrous hunts us. But the time has come to turn the tides. I have found its lair and the time has come for us to hunt it," James said.

"How will we know this creature?" Peter asked.

"It is a subtle beast, never seen, not even by its victims until it is too late," James said.

"How will we kill it?" Noodler asked.

James swiped his falchion down in a sweeping arc, slashing a line through the sand, spraying sand in a font away from his strike. He leaned on the Falchion and looked at each of the boys in turn.

"The top of its lair is littered with the weapons of brave knights who have tried to slay it and failed," James said.

"Has it killed many brave knights?" Seamus asked.

"So many that none but us are brave enough to seek it anymore," James said.

"Will all of us come back alive?" Tomtom asked.

"Doubtful," James replied. "But that means more glory to split between the survivors."

"What are we waiting for?" Hal asked happily.

"Kill the monster!" shouted the Lost Boys.

In five minutes the Lost Boys were streaming behind James, flying over Neverland. They shouted as they flew. They called for the monster's blood. Ladyrose flew next to James. Her eyes were alight with bloodlust. James could swear he could see a red gleam in her eyes. Her mouth was open in a wide, feral grin. Unlike the Lost Boys Ladyrose and Tinkerbell had stripped off their clothes and flown up to the trees to coat themselves in the juice of berries that they had squashed against each other. The result left the fairies naked and blue. They had armed themselves with long thorns, sharp and long as wicked daggers in their small hands.

When they came to the opposite side of the island and the great rock, James motioned for silence. He led them around the rock to the balcony and the swords scattered about the ground with the bones. The boys picked silently through the wreckage until each had found a blade to their liking. Hal and Tomtom picked up thin rapiers, good for thrusting through the thick hide of a beast. Noodler and Seamus picked up mortuary swords, double edged blades with a basket hilt that resembled a ribcage. They would be perfect for slashing open the beast. Peter found, hidden in a rock crevice in a corner, a highland claymore, it was made for his size but even so it was heavy and took much of his strength to wield it, but it would deliver great smashing blows to the beast when they met it.

James signaled them to follow him down the steps into the lair. The worn steps curved around taking them quickly out of the light. James paused, letting their eyes adjust to the dim interior. The steps were pitted and sloped down; they were nearly a slide in the center where the water sluiced down at high tide. They moved cautiously, trying not to alert their prey that they were in its abode. They all froze when the same snuffling howling that James had heard before was repeated.

"We should go back," Hal whispered.

"It would hunt us in our sleep," Peter whispered back.

"Shh," James hissed.

But the sound stopped at that. James had the awful feeling that the monster had heard them - heard him. James felt the definite need to run. But Peter was right. The monster was hunting them. It would take them unawares. This was the closest they would ever come to being able to do the same to it. What if it did kill them all? There was a crash outside like the sky was splitting asunder. James ducked low, sure that the ceiling was crashing down on him, holding his ears as best he could. Cold salt water washed past their feet. High tide was coming. He would have to decide now. Attack the monster and risk the water drowning them all or run and wait for the monster to come and get him. He looked at the dark stairwell before him, his lip trembled; he bit it. He was the Pan, he would not show fear. There was a red gleam beside him and James turned to see Ladyrose's eyes burning red like they were coals. Ladyrose raised her thorn and let out a high pitched twisting wail. Tinkerbell screamed the same wail and the wails played off each other sending shivers down James spine. His fears were amplified, added to by a strange dim feeling of inhuman things coming for his blood.

A low mournful whine issued from below them. A wicked grin snapped onto James's face. The monster too was afraid. The fairies' wail had scared the beast just as much as it had unnerved him. The wail petered out then Ladyrose and Tinkerbell shouted in unison.

"Get the fucker!"

The fairies flashed past. They repeated their horrible wail and this time James screamed along with them. The Lost Boys behind him took up the scream. They charged down the last steps and out into the cavern below. The cavern was a washed out dock and dungeon filled with the worn away shapes of people sculpted in agony. A raised platform of stone jutted out of the water in the center of the cavern. It was spread over with algae ridden iron manacles, their ends driven deep into the rock. A few bones lay stuck in the cracks, their gnawed ends spiked up from the rock. Movement at the other side of the cave caught James's eye. Something large and hairy was loping up stairs cut into the far wall. It disappeared at the top, ducking into another room above them.

"After it, you lazy knicker bacons[1]

"Don't let the fucker get away," Tinkerbell chimed in.

James didn't even bother climbing the straight stairs. He flew up the incline and burst into the new room with his falchion raised and ready to strike. The room was poorly lit by guttering candles, but even so he saw the huddled furry mass trying to hide itself behind a pillar shaped like yet another man in pain. This one though was sharp lined and decayed only by the touch of the beast and no waves. Water never got in here, there was no taint of it. Looking at the beast and the pillar while the Lost Boys and fairies rushed past him, James had a sudden foreboding. Something was a bout to go terribly wrong.

Ladyrose darted at the thing in the corner and struck as its great shaggy head with her thorn. The beast howled and tried to swat her. Tinkerbell flew in on the other cutting its arm as it moved. Then the Lost Boys were there. Hal and Tomtom struck through the thick matted hair to pierce the beast, their swords pulling out stained crimson, almost black in the dim light. The monster screamed in pain. But as the rapiers struck again and Seamus and Noodler made to slash with their swords, the beast pulled out a blade of it's own and harried them back. The beast stood on two legs, and waved its blade in one of its huge hairy hands. It drove the boys back. James rocketed forward hacking his falchion into the beast's sword arm. Peter slammed his claymore into the beasts other side. Blood fountained, splashing the Lost Boys in hot liquid. The beast screamed again. It crashed backwards into the pillar shaking several of the candles to the floor. Ladyrose and Tinkerbell darted in and slashed at the small swath of hairless skin on the beasts face. It shook its head, screaming and collapsing onto the ground where its face was illuminated by the fallen candles.

There was a horrible instant as James was slashing again when he saw the monster's face clearly for the first time. He had swung too hard to pull his blow, but as he swung time seemed to slow. The monster was a man. He was an adult man, so hairy and grimy, that it was almost impossible to tell the shape in the dark, but in the light it was unmistakable. The falchion slammed into the man's arm again, crunching through the bone and severing the arm in a wash of blood. The man's eyes met James's. James felt a moment of quiet, the shouting of the others muted along with the squelching ring of their blades biting into the meat of the man's body. He saw the man's mouth move, blood pouring over the side of the lips, blood spattering out as the man tried to speak. James did not hear what the man said, but he saw it. He saw the man call his name: James.

Peter's claymore slammed into the side of the man's face. It crushed the skull, grey matter spat onto the faces of the Lost Boys. The eye on the other side was pierced by a bone fragment and it deflated, shriveling away as life left the man. The other boys still hacked and stabbed. The fairies darted in and out of the carnage gashing at the already dead body. Only James was still. How long before they realized that James had stopped fighting with them? How long before the rest realized that it was a man they had killed? James looked at his friends, all of them screaming, their blood and brain soaked faces in horribly excited smiles as they attacked the corpse.

James batted one of the candles with his falchion. He struck it into the matted hair. A cheer rose up as the hair caught fire. James threw a second candle on. Then he threw a third and a fourth. The body burned with an acrid odor, the wetness of the blood popping and hissing as the fire boiled it away. The Lost Boys pillaged the rest of the candles stoning the body with them. They were chanting as they threw.

"Burn. Burn. Burn."

The fire rose, bursting in a great whoosh of flames as it devoured the man's guts. Ladyrose and Tinkerbell circled the flames, urging it higher with their ululating cry. James found himself chanting along with the rest of the boys.

"Burn. Burn. Burn."

He stared at the flames. He stared hard. He willed them into brightness. He knew if he closed his eyes he would see the man's face again. He knew he would see the man calling for him. And he knew he would see what he had not seen during the murder: he would see how he knew the man. He would see where they had met before. He would see the beach and a thin face framed by sandy colored hair. He would see the boy who ran away. The boy who ran away and grew up.

The Lost Boys swarmed like locusts around the bonfire. They had built it on top of the great rock in the sea. The waves rose as the sun set and the fire popped and hissed and danced as flecks of foam flew into it from the waves that smashed into the sides of the massive stone. The Lost Boys were cast in the fading hues of sunset, the blood drying on them as they circled above the fire just out of reach of the sea spray. They had built the bonfire in a depression at the top of the rock that resembled a wide open mouth. Jagged rocks surrounded the depression, filling in for teeth. The whole top of the massive rock reminded James of a skull, the features eroded by the ever attacking waves. A high point stood at the rear, facing Neverland, looking like the jutting chin. There were two deep crevasses somewhat above the depression James sat in by the bonfire. Another deep depression was up and to the left, a gouged out bowl like an eye socket. The right eye and above had been smashed in by the sea to reveal the balcony and sword filled ossuary that he had believed topped the monster's lair. But there had been no monster there.  
  
James could not fly with the others. He could not scream and yip with the triumph of battle bloodily won. He sat instead by the bonfire letting the spit of the crashing waves fall on him and feeling far from triumphant. He watched the boys circle. Their blades flashed when the caught the firelight. What would they do to him if they knew? It was true there was no love in Neverland for men. But a lack of love and murder were not the same. And the man had been one of them, once. He had been a friend to James, a friend forgotten. Would the Lost Boy's drive him away, shun him until he too was forgotten, until one day some other boy thought of hunting monsters. James felt a thick oily tear roll down his face. He wiped it away and saw his hand come way bloody. Another tear fell from the other eye which he swiped away with his finger tips only to see his fingers smeared with blood as well. Was he crying blood? James leaned over his hands, put his face into them, trying to catch his tears on his hands that he had scoured clean in the sparse sand where he sat. He had to see if his tears were catching blood or were blood themselves. Could he have been wounded? Maybe a tip of one of the fairies' thorns had broken off and lodged itself in his eyes. He blinked feeling the sting of something in his eyes. He felt another drop fall from an eye. It splatted on his palm. He pulled back and saw his palm marked with a single drop of blood. He stared at it.  
  
"James?"  
  
It was Peter. He spoke gently, softly, like he didn't want the others to hear.  
  
"James, are you all right?" Peter asked.  
  
James looked up and saw Peter flinch away.  
  
"James, your eyes, your eyes are red. They're red like Ladyrose's."  
  
"Like Ladyrose?" James asked.  
  
Like ladyrose's eyes. Not bloody red, but glowing red. He could see Peter nodding.  
  
"Ladyrose," James called up to her.  
  
Ladyrose fluttered down from the heights above the bonfire. She landed on James outstretched hand then hissed in surprise when she saw his face. Her own eyes had returned to the forget me not blue they usually shared in common.  
  
"Baubles and bungler, what have you done?" Ladyrose asked.  
  
"Why are my eyes red?" James asked.  
  
Ladyrose looked up at Peter. "You, back to the others," she said imperiously. "You," she said to James. "Come with me.  
  
James followed Ladyrose to the balcony and down the stairs. The tide had come in to fill most of the cavern. Only the tops of the stairwells and the vault of the ceiling were above water and James had to skim the water to move or risk knocking his head. He paused when he realized that Ladyrose was going to lead him up into the room with the dead man. He hovered; the front of his feet dangled in the water. Ladyrose turned to him and beckoned him sharply to follow. He hesitated a moment more then followed Ladyrose back into the darkened room. The room was filled with an acrid charnel smell. James put his arm to his mouth and nose trying to block the reek with his sleeve. His eyes began to adjust and he could see that the corpse still glowed like hot coals. Ladyrose fetched a candle and lit it off the body. The flame illuminated her thin face, still dirty with berry juice and blood.  
  
"You are the Pan," Ladyrose said.  
  
"I know I am," James said.  
  
"Do you know what it means?" Ladyrose asked.  
  
"I'm the leader of the Lost Boys," James said.  
  
"In other words you don't. So shut your gob and don't talk back," Ladyrose said.  
  
"But I am the leader…" James started.  
  
Ladyrose cut him off, "I said shut your gob!"  
  
James fell silent. Ladyrose waited to make sure he didn't start talking again. Then she continued.  
  
"The Lost Boys can suck poison. They don’t matter. The Pan is what makes them possible. The Pan makes Neverland possible. The Pan even makes fairies possible. That's why fairies get to leave the court and live with their child if they become lost. Because one of them might become the Pan. Most don't and nobody will shit themselves over it. All we care about is the Pan. Because the Pan holds on to childhood, he… you hold everything back from growing up. You make Lost Boys happen. You make people stay young at heart. Neverland connects to everyone, because everyone is a part of Neverland. Every dream, every wish, every whimsy, every bit of make believe is a bit of the stuff that makes up Neverland. People dream of delicious food. You find delicious food. People dream of sand, and you play in it on the beach. But all of this only lasts as long as there is a Pan. All of this only lasts until you grow up. So stop fucking around. Relax. Enjoy life. Have a toss on the beach."  
  
James blushed and looked down at the floor. Ladyrose flew at him her wings making a sharp staccato jangle. She grabbed his face, put herself directly before his face so the only way he couldn't see her was to close her eyes.  
  
"Have a toss on the beach. Have it on Peter while the rest of the boys frig their palms over you. It doesn't matter. But you have to stop whatever it is you've been doing lately. Whatever it is, it's making you grow up, and that's the only thing you can't do. I don't care if you kill Tomtom and wear his entrails for a hat. As long as you never grow up you can do anything you want. But whatever it is that you've been doing lately it has made you grow up just a little and that's why your eyes turned red. Neverland doesn't like its boys to grow up. It does things to you if you do. It'll twist your body to your fairies worst trait. That's why your eyes glowed red. Mine glow too easily. It's why Toby was hairy as a bear. Farmeropal was too hairy."  
  
"Toby?" James asked.  
  
James had a flash of the sandy haired boy again. He remembered looking up at Toby, his long hair blowing in the wind, whipping over his chocolate brown eyes. He remembered a fairy circling the boys head, dodging the whipping hair and laughing.  
  
"You knew. You knew he wasn't the monster. You knew he was a man," James accused.  
  
"Men are monsters," Ladyrose said. "They're filthy disbelieving Spanish gout laying pieces of shit. I knew and he deserved to die."  
  
Ladyrose's eyes flared a baleful red. James stepped back. She hovered in mid air her eyes blazing, her whole body glowing in the faint light of the candle.  
  
"We knew. And some of the other boys know. And it doesn't matter. It was a good game. It was fun. It made my spine tingle and my quim throb. And it was fucking good. You're the only one who feels bad about it and you shouldn't. Men are our enemy. Nothing is more pernicious and evil than men. You have to let go of your stupid pity. He wasn't a boy anymore. He wasn't one of us. At best he was traitorous leper among the loyal. But that would only be if he stayed young at heart. And you can't do that and grow up in Neverland. So get over it. Feel your hate. Revel in it. Let it make you happy. You burned him. You cauterized him like the syphilitic wound he was. You did the right thing. Doing what you want is the right thing. So stop second guessing and wondering. Go back to being the Pan!"  
  
Ladyrose dove forward ricocheted off his face and plunged out of the room into the water with a splash. Her fairy light illuminated the sea green water a moment and then she was out of sight headed back for the Lost Boys. James was left alone with Toby's corpse in the candlelight. Why couldn't he remember Toby? Or Toby's fairy Farmeropal? How many other boys had he forgotten? How many other fairies? James was seized by the memory of Seamus calling for Cobblergrin. Had Cobblergrin been Seamus' fairy? What had happened to her? What about all the other fairies? If every lost boy got his fairy, why did only he and Peter have their fairies? What made them special? Ladyrose's words came back to him: Have it on Peter while the rest of the boys frig their palms over you. James felt an odd quickening of his pulse as a hazy image of that scene formed in his mind. He couldn't help blushing and turning his face. His gaze fell on Toby's corpse.  
  
The image and the feelings left him. Toby had ruined it. Toby had ruined everything. Why had Toby had to scare him, disgust him, make him feel guilty? He had been happy until he had found Toby again. James kicked the body. Toby had tried to make him grow up. James kicked the body again. He kicked it hard enough that the upper half of the brittle remains severed from the lower half. Toby was running away again. James wanted to kick and he was going to kick he flew at the body kicking with both feet. The wind of his assault made the candle gutter and go out, but James could still see the body crack and crumble beneath his assault by the glow of his red eyes. He kicked and kicked, putting all his rage, all his panic, all his loathing into every strike, until he closed his eyes and let the bloody tears stream down his face. He collapsed onto the floor.  
  
"I don't want to," James cried. "I don't want to grow up."  
  
He huddled in on himself repeating the phrase. He chanted it with every sob.  
  
"I don't want to. I don't want to grow up."  
  
James felt the draft of wings and heard the tinkling flutter of wings. He looked up at Tinkerbell swathed in golden fairy light. She placed a soft hand into the rivulets of blood that streamed from his eyes.  
  
"Then don't. You don't have to. Come away. Come play with us," Tinkerbell said softly.  
  
James reached out and Tinkerbell clasped his first finger between her hands. She pulled up and he rose to his feet.  
  
"Come play. Come play."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A slang term for labia from the time.  [ return to text ]

**Author's Note:**

> 11Nursery term of the time, like the modern "peepee."[return to text]


End file.
